I'll Do It
by FuzzBear97
Summary: And suddenly, he changed his mind. "Alright", he rasped. "I'll Do It." I DONT OWN ANYTHING! R & R!


Peter woke up. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry. His joints were stiff; when he moved, it felt like every particle of his body was screaming in agony. Moaning, he curled up into foetal position. After a long while, the pain subsided. Trembling, he sat up, his back against the cool, hard wall. He took stock of his surroundings. He was in a small, dark and dank room. It was completely bare. The door, at the far side of the room, was made of the same solid rock as the walls. The cracked floor was heavily stained with rust-coloured blotches. Peter did not like to think what they might be. In desperation, he tried to transform but his efforts were futile. He reached for his wand. It was not there. Dread coursed through Peter. He thought he knew why he was there, and who was behind his kidnapping. He fervently hoped he was wrong.  
Peter jumped at the sudden, loud creak. The door was opening. It swung forwards on its hinges. A man walked in; a man from Peter's nightmares. He was tall and thin, as pale as a corpse. His flat nose gave him a snakelike appearance. What scared Peter most, though, were the man's eyes: they were blood red, and their gaze was cruel. Those eyes spoke of the man; harsh and unforgiving. As the man turned to look at him, Peter recoiled in fear. The man gave a short, humourless laugh. It made the hair on Peter's neck stand up. "Trying to run away, are we?" the man asked. His voice was high, soft and cold. Every syllable he uttered seemed to carry a threat. "You should know better than to underestimate me, Peter Pettigrew. I am not so foolish as to forget to place enchantments to prevent your escape. My magic far more powerful than anything you could ever imagine." The man whipped around and began pacing the room, still talking in his smooth voice. "It is strange how things turn out, is it not? Here you lie before me, a wizard of no great skill; weak, cowardly." Peter's cheeks burned in shame. Each insinuation stabbed him like a dagger. "Yet, you enjoy the... what do you call it? I would not go so far as to call it friendship... ah yes, the company of wizards and witches of far greater magical ability than your own." He came to a halt beside Peter. He took out his wand.  
Terror flooded through every fibre of Peter's body. "No, no", he whimpered. "Please, I beg of you, no!" The wizard laughed again. "Crucio!" Peter screamed, thrashing about on the ground. This was agony; Peter felt as though he might be driven insane by the pain. It was pure torture. He shrieked as the pain seared, his cries echoing throughout the room. His torturer continued to cackle. His mind yelled for release. Let it end, he thought over and over. Let the pain end...  
After what seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. Peter retched and curled up, sobbing. The interval was brief. He was subjected to the curse yet again, and this time it felt worse than before. He howled at the burning pain felt as though it had engulfed his body in flames. It was like nothing he had ever felt before; it felt akin to being subjected to every known form of torture at once. He screamed, shouting to the heavens, praying and beseeching for the ordeal to end. He felt as though he would gladly die if it would let him escape. His body was drenched in sweat, his feverish mind delirious with pain.  
Peter's resolution snapped as his tormentor raised his wand a third time. "NO!" he rasped. "Please, not again, I'll do anything! Don't hurt me again! Please!" Tears leaked from his eyes; he was a pitiful sight.  
The wizard knelt beside him. "I thought you would open up eventually. The Dark Lord is not unreasonable. I will gladly free you from this ordeal. All I ask is a little something in return", he hissed in Peter's ear, "your friends, the Potters." Peter's insides froze. "No, no, do not misunderstand me. I am not too concerned by them. They could not hope to defeat me. No, no.  
"They have a son, don't they? A young boy. Harry Potter. A prophecy was made concerning me and this child. Unfortunately, Dumbledore" he spat, "that meddlesome old fool has hidden them away. This is my price, Pettigrew. Give me the Potters, and you will be rewarded. Otherwise, you will have to face my... displeasure."  
Peter's mind was in a whirl. Betray his friends? Hand James and Lily over to certain death? His mind flashed back to all the time he had spent with them: those childhood adventures with James and the Marauders, the get-togethers at Lily and James' home in Godric's Hollow, not to mention all the times when they had helped him out of tight situations. How could he, after all they had done for him, show such ingratitude? They weren't always that kind to you, though, said a nasty, spiteful voice inside his head. James thought you were an idiot, he and Sirius were always making fun of you. Even Lily didn't talk to you until she started going out with James. Then he thought of the countless times James and the others had poked fun at him, the snide comments and scathing words at his simple-mindedness, the bitter envy when James aced the tests without trying whilst he only narrowly scraped a pass, how James and Lily were two of the most popular kids in their year while he had always been known as the runty little boy who tagged along behind them. Jealousy blinded Peter, yet a doubt plagued his mind.  
"I don't like to be kept waiting, Pettigrew," whispered the man. "Will you lead me to the Potters? Answer me! Crucio!" Peter screamed as sharp, invisible needles seemed to tear at his skin. "STOP! STOP!" Surprisingly, the pain ceased immediately. Panting and shivering, Peter sat up. Several thoughts came up in his mind. He pushed them all away. For the first time, he turned to face the Dark Lord. "Alright," he rasped.  
"I'll do it."


End file.
